


Can't Help Being Involved

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Community: sons_of_gondor, Desire, Dogs, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, New Zealand, Rural, Threesome, farming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2010-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:51:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karl owns a small agricultural supply store in rural New Zealand amidst a failing economy that is taking farming families down with it; yet two of his regular customers never fail to spread a little optimism in their wake. But Karl should know better than to get involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Help Being Involved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afra_schatz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afra_schatz/gifts).



> [](http://afra-schatz.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://afra-schatz.livejournal.com/)**afra_schatz** asked for, among other things, "contemporary AUs" and "NZ timed fic," so I decided to go for a contemporary New Zealand AU. I hope it suits. Happy Halloween, madame!

"...and anyway, the house'd need redoing before we could even _think_ of housing boarders." Karl didn't need to glance at the door as it creaked open, the bell above tinkling its tiny tune, to know regular customers when he heard them. They were too few and far between these days, and anyway, that slightly slurred, soft voice could only belong to one fellow; and that meant _his_ fellow wasn't so far behind either.

Not that Viggo and Sean were more than partners, mind. At least, not that they'd ever declared. What they did in the privacy of their own home was their business and no one else's, no matter how badly the old biddies around here wanted to know. Not that it wasn't tempting; Karl found he had to frequently remind himself it wasn't his place to get involved in others' affairs, even if he would give his eyeteeth to get down the front of one or both of their trousers. Too bad the best gossip pointed firmly in the direction of the two of them already being involved with each other -- he had almost hoped they were single straight blokes, because at least that'd feed into the tiniest fantasy of showing a straight boy the joys of being a little bit bent.

And as always, as Viggo tromped across the threshold, Sean and their two herders close behind, there was no mistaking the fond looks that passed between them; the oldest, wisest biddy in the world didn't have a patch on Karl's own experience, and it made his heart squeeze in disappointment in his chest.

"Mm." Casually, Sean brushed by Viggo, but even so, Karl didn't miss the light caress of fingers over the back of Viggo's hand. "Still, it's something to think about," he murmured, stepping towards the nearest supply aisle, already assessing the bags of feed stacked in the closest display. As if on cue, one dog broke from the side of the other, heeling behind Sean without so much as a whistle or hand-signal.

Viggo shrugged, ignoring the shelves in favour of wandering over to the counter Karl was currently behind, the other Huntaway following. "Karl, my friend," his smile was dazzling, "I've been dying to see you for _days_. Starving for a good chat. Trying to talk to this one," he waved in the direction of Sean, "is about as pointless as chatting up a rock."

Sean glanced up from reading the back of a tin, rolled his eyes and a moment later, put the tin back and drifted deeper into the store.

Viggo chuckled and leaned further over the counter as if sharing a secret with Karl. His eyes danced as he licked his lips, and Karl couldn't help but watch the swipe of tongue over skin. "Come on, then. I hear they're lambing early up at Bana's place, and with no one but the younger brother at home to sort out the mess. Is it true?"

They were a queer pair, Viggo and Sean, newly immigrated from England or the Americas or something of the sort, dead set on making a go of wool and meat in a climate where the farms were all shrinking, demand going down and family businesses folding one by one. Karl often wondered how long it'd be before all his customers dried up, no money nor livelihood left in it all, no one to sell tack or feed or even the odd blanket to, the last hangers-on buying at great discount from online arseholes who could move more product in an hour than Karl could in a month. He'd have to shut up shop then too, move on to Auckland or Wellington or some place else, taking up a job as a tradesman, or heaven forbid, end up back practising law.

Yet it was hard to hold onto the gloom of reality in the face of Viggo and Sean's sunny optimism, especially with Viggo propping up the old, scarred wood counter, nattering on about Merinos, Romneys and Perendales, his latest plans for breeding, and Sean's hope they'd turn their whole operation into a hobby farm for tourist-types down the road. He'd cock his hat back on his head, beaming at Karl the whole time, periodically ducking down out of sight to scratch the head of one of the pair of Huntaways that were forever following the two of them around.

Karl didn't need to hear the slow thump of tail on the floorboards to know which it was: the quiet brindle that barely barked, presumably not needing to make much racket when his master had the market already cornered. It was funny, Karl reflected, how their dogs were mirror images of their masters: Viggo's brindle quiet, content to keep its own counsel, and Sean's an enthusiastic black-and-tan, constantly on the move, constantly barking at Sean's heels.

Each time, Karl found himself easily drawn into making the requisite noises, Viggo full-steam under his own power, needing nothing but oxygen to keep sailing along; and it was oddly pleasant to simply let himself be carried by Viggo's voice, half-listening to Viggo's opinion on the quality of grass, the price of feed while Karl stacked boxes or restocked shelves, dusting, tidying, keeping stock and pretending that Viggo's world was real and not, in fact, giving way like a cliff crumbling into the sea.

And all the while, Sean would float silently through the shop but for his dog's steady narration, touching this item, picking up that one, grinning as Viggo chattered, seemingly happy to let Viggo talk someone else's ear off for the length of time it took him to make their purchases for the week. Given how long it took Sean some days, Karl began to suspect perhaps it was less about needing time to find and check off the items on his list, and more about wanting a little space for a quiet thought or two.

Eventually, though, Sean would wind his way back to the counter, depositing the week's haul on top, gifting Karl with a warm smile that never failed to make Karl shiver. There was something in the way he looked at a person that made you think you were the only individual in the world, and more than once, while he was alone, Karl had grasped himself tight, stroking and squeezing gently, thinking of nothing but those eyes on him.

As Sean paid, Viggo piped back up, brimming over with excitement. "We're off to look at horses next."

Karl blinked, losing count of Sean's change. " _Again_?" He did a quick silent count and came up with half a dozen. "This'll be, what, the seventh?"

Viggo nodded, but it was Sean who spoke next. "He misses driving cattle, I think. It's driving _him_ to collect horses like they're going out of style." He chuckled. "We're the only farm in the area without a decent land rover."

"There's nothing wrong with a little tradition," Viggo punched Sean lightly in the arm, "And besides, horses are environmentally friendly." He ignored Sean's token protests as he beamed at Karl. "Anyway, I thought we'd have a quick drink after, a bit of a celebration of a new purchase and a job well done. Are you up for it?"

Karl swallowed. He knew better than to mix business with pleasure, but it was damn hard to say no with both men looking expectantly at him.

***

And that was how a solid four hours later, Karl found himself in the pub down the street, roped into a drink or two with his newly-defined mates, as surely saddled with unfocussed yearning as he was likely to be with the bill.

It was strange enough to see Viggo and Sean without their dogs -- Viggo joked that they weren't allowed in because they were minors, while Sean sensibly informed Karl they'd been taken home rather than have them wait in the pickup -- but stranger still was how well the two of them held their liquor. Karl could have sworn they matched him glass for glass, yet it seemed as if he was the only one even slightly tipsy. He furrowed his brow, leaning forward, watching as Sean tipped his mug to his mouth, licking his lips as Sean's throat worked, waiting for the tell-tale signs that Sean was feeling the effects of the alcohol. He squirmed in his seat, impatience driving him, absolutely no idea at the picture he presented until he felt a hand on his arm.

Viggo leaned in, breath warm and sweet against Karl's cheek as he murmured, "You might not want to stare."

Karl blinked, jerking backward, straightening up. "I wasn't-- I mean, I didn't--" He felt the first rush of heat that signalled the flush blooming across his cheeks and fell silent, mortified at being found out so easily.

Yet the hand on his arm was reassuring, patting gently. Viggo's voice was low, softer and silkier than Karl had ever heard in his shop. "It's all right. I stare too. Frequently. But it tends to distress the rest of the patrons." He nodded towards the bar even as he squeezed Karl's forearm. "They're not so big on our kind." Whether that meant 'gay' or 'American', Viggo didn't seem inclined to clarify. With a final pat, he leaned back in his chair, the wood frame creaking under his weight.

Swallowing down the urge to bolt, Karl risked a glance at Sean. The other man was perfectly at ease, cradling his mug against his chest, watching Karl with laughing eyes. He shrugged. "I don't mind being watched," he said, simply, "but here's not the best spot for that."

Viggo chuckled. His chairlegs scraped against the floor as he nudged himself closer to Karl's side. A moment later, Karl felt a palm curve lightly against his upper thigh, and after a second's indecision, he let his muscles relax and his legs spread slightly. He'd never have expected it from them, not as they were already paired and partnered up, but he wasn't so green he didn't know a come on when it smacked him in the face. Nor did he miss the silent look and nod that passed between Viggo and Sean a moment before Viggo squeezed Karl's leg.

Sean cleared his throat. "I imagine you'll want to splash a little water on your face, Karl. You seem a bit... overheated." He gestured to their right, at a corridor marked with a framed photo of a smiling man holding a mug captioned 'Used Beer Department'. "The loo's just over there."

Karl squinted at the sign, then at Sean. He was suddenly sure that his brain was firing slowly. He felt his head tilt to the side like a giant caged parrot trying to figure out who that bird reflected in the mirror was. "What?"

Viggo grinned, rubbing at Karl's leg. "Go to the washroom. You look like you could use a moment to cool down."

Frowning, Karl nodded. It was more than a bit hot in here, and if he was reading the two of them wrong, then it'd be better if he took a moment for himself, because neither Sean's focussed gaze nor Viggo's hand was helping to master his slowly hardening dick. He swallowed heavily, shoving at his chair as he got up hard enough to make it skitter slightly backward. "I'll-- Sure," he mumbled, weaving his way through the tables towards the toilets.

Christ, he was an idiot. Finding the right door, he pushed it inward, almost smacking a man on his way out in the face. He sighed and mumbled an apology, stepping aside to let him through. A moment later, and he was standing in front of the white porcelain, watching cool water swirl down the drain. He tossed a little on his face, relieved to feel his muscles unknotting as he gained a little distance. It was always a stupid idea to get involved with customers; at this rate, he'd lose his last bit of livelihood as Viggo and Sean stopped coming in alongside everyone else, put off now that they knew he fancied them both. He dragged his fingers through his hair and groaned.

"Is there anyone in here but you?"

Karl looked up at the mirror, blinking at Viggo's reflection behind his own. "...Uh?" he said, the picture of intelligence.

Viggo shook his head, rolled his eyes. He ducked down, peering under the stalls, then straightened and nodded at the door. "Lock it," he said, and Karl almost moved to do so, startled into obedience by his own befuddlement, before he realized Sean was at the door already.

There was a soft 'click', and then Sean made his way across the tiled floor to stand next to Viggo, sliding an arm around his waist. "Feeling better?" Sean's reflection addressed Karl's. "You seemed a little unsteady." He kissed the reflected Viggo's cheek, then released him and stepped up behind Karl, resting his hands on his hips. "You really needn't worry so much, Karl." He chuckled. "Viggo caught sight of you staring at my arse a while ago, and we've... been aware ever since." He leaned in, breath tickling Karl's skin. "It seemed a shame to let such appreciation go by without a taste." He nipped gently at Karl's earlobe, sucking lightly and soothing it with his tongue after Karl jumped. Karl felt rather than saw the hands at his belt, the tiniest clicking of metal on metal as the buckle came apart, the hiss of denim as each button came free of his fly.

"Let me help." Viggo stepped close to Sean, kissing him lightly as he nudged both Sean and Karl around. As they shifted, Karl felt himself tugged back against Sean's body, facing away from the sinks as Viggo kneeled in front of them both.

Once settled, Viggo's fingers went to work, pushing aside interfering cloth to take out Karl's cock, stroking it even as Viggo made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. He licked his lips, and Karl shuddered, his toes curling against the soles of his shoes. "I don't--" Karl's protest died on his tongue as Viggo's tonguetip flickered against the head of his cock. He whimpered softly, hips jerking slightly.

Karl could hear Sean's smile against the curve of his neck. "Relax." He laughed softly. "It isn't as if you're the only one enjoying it." He pressed tighter against Karl, and Karl was suddenly aware of just how hard Sean was. He moaned a little, rocking his hips enough to rub himself against Sean, relishing the answering moan he coaxed free.

Viggo's tongue was just as wicked silent as it was when it wagged. Karl's nerves snapped and crackled as Viggo played him like a pro, flickering and fluttering against his skin, circling and rubbing. Karl was certain he was going to expire on the spot, dead from cockteasing, or any moment now he'd come like a teen, self-control tossed completely to the wind. He squirmed against Sean, wishing fruitlessly that they were skin-to-skin, moving enough that Sean finally slid an arm around his chest and tightened the one at his waist, keeping him still.

Karl whimpered, struggling against Sean, who responded by nipping at Karl's skin, sharp little bursts of pain that curbed the pleasure enough to keep Karl on edge.

And thank god for that, he thought blurrily just a moment before Viggo took Karl's cock in in one long swallow, his throat closing around Karl's shaft. Karl's eyes widened, his balls tightening, nothing but the sharp edges of Sean's teeth keeping Karl this side of coming. He whined, twisting, and felt the tip of his dick nudge the back of Viggo's throat. A rush of syllables left Karl's mouth, all broken curses, enough to make Sean laugh softly, and Viggo hum with pleasure, sending vibrations up and down Karl's spine.

God, Viggo was good. He sucked firmly as he pulled back from Karl until all the but the head of his cock was still in Viggo's mouth, his tongue swirling over it, gently prodding at the slit, swiping at it before Viggo took Karl in deep all over again. He kept at it, the same slow, steady rhythm, until it was all Karl could do not to beg. Sean's nips had turned to licks and light scrapes of teeth that ended in gentle sucking pressure, and distantly, Karl imagined tomorrow his neck would be covered in tiny bruises. He shuddered at the thought.

Agonizingly slowly, Viggo picked up the pace until he had Karl shivering continuously. He took Karl deep, closing his throat around him, reaching between his legs to cradle his balls and give them a gentle squeeze.

Karl gasped as the unexpected wave of pleasure crashed down over him. He bucked against Sean, thrusting himself a scant half-inch deeper into Viggo's mouth as his cock twitched hard and he came.

Almost immediately, his muscles gave out, and it was only the fact that Sean was holding him that he kept from sliding to the floor.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he could hold himself upright again, but in that time Viggo had kept licking and sucking gently, letting Karl soften in his mouth before he released him entirely. He smiled up at Karl, tucking his dick carefully back into his jeans, buttoning up his fly and doing up his belt. He smoothed the denim under his hands. "There," he murmured, his voice slightly rough, "Now you look like nothing happened in here at all." He winked at Karl, leaned in to kiss his fly, then slowly got off his knees.

Viggo groaned as his joints popped, and Sean, still nuzzling Karl's neck, made a sympathetic noise. "Next time," Sean demurred, "we do this somewhere other than the Men's."

Karl found himself wanting to ask if there was going to be a next time, but all that came out was a whimper. But after another few minutes of light touches from Sean, he found his legs enough that he was no longer slumping, and a moment later, Sean let him go.

"All right?" Sean tilted his head to the side, studying Karl.

"Uh. Yeah. Yeah," Karl licked his lips, "I think so. I just... I need a moment." He leaned forward against the sink, taking one long, slow breath after another. "You two go ahead, and I'll catch up. I just need a minute."

Viggo shrugged. "Sure." He clapped a hand on Karl's shoulder. "We'll be waiting outside." He turned, and once Sean had the door unlocked, the two of them slipped back out to the pub, nonchalant as ever.

"Fuck," Karl muttered to himself. " _Fuck._ " He shook his head, blinking at the rumpled reflection he presented in the mirror, completely disbelieving. Had any of that actually happened, or had he had a bad reaction to something he ate, and that was all some bafflingly hot food-borne hallucination? He slapped a hand against the countertop, wincing as a sharp spike of pain shuddered through his hand. Yup, this was all real. " _Fucking fuck_ ," he said again, just for special emphasis.

A creak behind him was the first warning that he wasn't alone. He looked up in time to see one of the stalls open slowly and a tall man with attractively messy, curly hair step out. Karl's eyes widened. How long had he been in there? His eyes flicked to the door, but of course that had been locked the whole time he'd been with Viggo and Sean, so... _Oh god_.

The man stepped up to a sink two down from Karl and proceeded to wash his hands, completely unconcerned, as if he hadn't just been witness to an act of depravity. Karl chewed on his lip. What should he do? Flee the scene of the crime? Pretend nothing happened? Apologize? Christ, this was another in a long list of reasons it was better to keep your head down and your nose clean. That way, you didn't end up trapped in the toilets with someone who was about to report you to the police for indecency.

There was a tearing noise as the other man grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser. Slowly, as if he were simply surveying the room, looking for the nearest rubbish bin, he turned towards Karl. Impossibly, he smiled at Karl, taking one long look at him from top to toes. He crumpled up the towel, discarding it and sticking out his hand. "Hi," he said. "I'm Eric." He took a step closer to Karl when Karl didn't seem inclined to shake. "Listen, I don't mean to get involved, but..."

...Dammit, Karl thought as his cock twitched sluggishly in his jeans -- the scent of soap and spices on Eric's skin floating across the gap between them, teasing his nose -- there was no help for it now. Maybe it wasn't so bad to let himself be a little involved.


End file.
